


Truckin'

by Nyssa



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-28
Updated: 2010-10-28
Packaged: 2017-10-12 22:51:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/129985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyssa/pseuds/Nyssa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starsky and Hutch squeeze into a tight space.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Truckin'

**Author's Note:**

> Set the evening before the boys' first scene in the episode "The Set Up." They look so dang happy to be together. *sigh*

Hutch stretched his legs out as far as he could on the little bed behind the seat. Not much room there for one man, much less a pair of men, but as long as Starsky was the other half of the pair, Hutch would make the sacrifice. And being naked helped. Clothes would have taken up even more space.

"You mean she never told you he was murdered?"

Starsky grunted and shifted a little until his own legs were entangled with his partner's. After a moment's readjustment, he spoke.

"Nope. She said he'd been hit by a bus. Can you believe that? Like she thought I wouldn't hear what really happened. Hey, your elbow's in my ear."

Hutch moved his arm awkwardly until Starsky's head was able to slip under it to rest on his shoulder.

"Well, you were young, Starsk. What were you, eleven? Pretty tender age to be told your father's been murdered."

"Yeah, but I knew it. I could tell she was lying to me. And even later, she wouldn't talk about it. She finally stopped sayin' it was a bus, but she still wouldn't talk about the murder. I had to depend on Joe Durniak to tell me what really went down."

Starsky was tense with the memory. Hutch could feel it in the tight muscles, the quickened pulse. Normally, he'd have moved closer to Starsky, put a calming hand on his arm, maybe massaged the back of his neck. Right now he couldn't get any closer. He settled for speaking softly and rubbing Starsky's bare foot with his own.

"You should get over that, you know. No reason to still be mad at her."

He felt Starsky shrug. "I'm not mad. I love her, you know that." He was silent a moment. "But she should have told me."

"When you found out from Durniak, did you tell Nick?"

"No." Starsky glanced at him. "You kidding? He was only six. You can't tell a six-year-old something like that."

"Maybe your mom thought you couldn't tell an eleven-year-old something like that."

"Yeah," Starsky said shortly. "I guess." Hutch heard the eye-roll in his voice, the _Okay, buddy, but I'm still right_.

"Starsk," Hutch said, "we'll never get any sleep this way. We'll keep sticking our elbows in each other's ears and our knees in each other's balls all night."

Starsky dipped a finger into Hutch's belly button. "Got a better idea?"

"Turn over and we'll spoon. That'll be more comfortable."

"Spoon," Starsky repeated. "Like moon, June, spoon?"

Hutch smiled. "Like that. Only without the moon and June."

"There's a moon," Starsky said, pointing through a part in the blankets they'd hung over the windows. "Big one. Bet they can't see it this clear in Bay City."

Hutch caught Starsky's pointing hand and kissed it. "Yeah, there's too much pollution there. Desert air's clean. If you weren't so chicken we could have camped out instead of parking on the side of the road and squeezing ourselves to death back here."

Starsky traced Hutch's lips with a finger. "Go cuddle up to a Gila monster if you want to. I kinda thought this'd be nicer."

"It's cramped," Hutch whispered. He opened his mouth and bit down lightly on Starsky's finger.

"Not cramped, cozy," Starsky murmured, touching Hutch's tongue.

"Roll over," Hutch said. "Spoon, remember?"

Starsky grinned and rolled over. "That what they're callin' it now?"

"That's the polite term," Hutch said. He twisted clumsily onto his side, and smiled. Starsky fit perfectly against him. His cock nudged at the juncture of Starsky's thighs.

"That a snake?" Starsky asked, laughter submerged in his voice.

"Well, it's not a Gila monster."

"Good," Starsky said, putting a hand back and drawing Hutch's leg over his. "Always hated those damn things."

"Shh," Hutch said, fumbling for the tube of K-Y he'd rescued from the glove compartment before they climbed back here. "This is gonna be complicated enough without you yakking your head off and ruining my concentration."

"Maybe we should just forget it and go to sleep." Starsky paused, as though considering. "Nah."

Hutch quickly slicked himself and pulled Starsky's hips closer. "Just hold still and look at the moon, okay?"

"You romantic devil, you."

"And I'll take care of _your_ moon." Hutch slid in carefully, and Starsky's reply came out as a wordless groan.

Hutch closed his eyes. Two weeks. Two weeks alone on the road together. No one watching. No one knowing their names. They were working, they were heading toward something big, but for now it was just them. He felt dizzy with freedom.

"Hutch." Starsky's voice was a rough whisper. "Hutch, move."

He could do anything here. Stare at the gorgeous desert moon all night. Barrel down the freeway singing at the top of his lungs ( _free_ way; he loved that word). Make Starsky forget everything he didn't want to remember. Wipe it all clean.

He moved.


End file.
